


some variations on a theme

by transit (dollyeo)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cat/Human Hybrids, F/M, Finger Fucking, Genderbending, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/transit
Summary: 1: fem!wonwoo/soonyoung, seemingly unrequited high school pining.2: cat hybrid!wonwoo/soonyoung, a matter of heats and mating.(or: a series of gratuitous one-shots, from different scenarios and universes I'll never get around to piecing together.)





	1. I love the sound of you walking away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kwon Soonyoung has a type, and Jeon Wonhee from class 1-B is _totally_ his type.
> 
> Now, if only she felt the same way.

The summer after junior high school ends and Soonyoung’s freshman year in high school begins is weird.

For one thing, his voice finally breaks, and he starts growing hair _everywhere_. Dad has to teach him how to shave without cutting himself and looking like a murder victim all at once; he’d made the mistake the first time of cutting his Adam’s apple and making blood gush from the wound all in one nick, and then Soonhee-noona screamed and almost brained him with a shoe when he’d ran to her room without even pulling on a towel like the panicked, nervous wreck he was at fourteen. And at fifteen, he isn’t any different, no— still a mess, only with slightly better teeth from years of braces and slightly less acne now that Soonhee-noona’s been taking him to the dermatologist and to shopping for personal care products with her as her lackey and baggage handler in her spare time.

“You need to learn to take better care of your appearance, Soonyoung-ah,” she says, piling bottles of tea tree oil and volcanic clay masks on sale in the basket Soonyoung’s carrying. “Girls your age notice things like that, you know.”

“But I don’t want girls to notice me yet,” Soonyoung lies. “Mom says I’m not allowed to date until I’m in uni.”

“Mom also said that to me a long time ago, but how many boyfriends did I have before I even entered college?”

“Three.”

“And how many did she find out?”

“None?”

“Exactly,” says Soonhee-noona. She reaches out to grip his jaw, inspecting his face with narrowed eyes. “And how many boyfriends are you going to tell her about?”

“No one,” says Soonyoung, dutiful as ever in the face of a hidden threat. She beams and squeezes his cheeks with both her hands, smushing them together until he can feel his lips pout.

“Good,” she says. “Just for that, we’re getting ice cream after we shop.”

Wisely, Soonyoung trails after her without complaining about the weight in his hands. Soonhee-noona's been spending like crazy ever since she’s gotten a part-time job, but Soonyoung’s not complaining when he’s reaping the secondhand benefits of her uncontrollable splurging. Just last month on his birthday, she’d gotten him the shoes from adidas he’d been eyeing after he’d caught her sneaking out to meet a guy at one in the morning. It’s less a symbol of sibling fondness and more of a bribe, but Soonyoung knows when to keep his mouth shut.

Besides, she can take care of herself. She’s got the black belt in taekwondo to prove it.

Still, it’s a little embarrassing sometimes to be the tag-along, especially when she tries to get the shop assistant to test out some lip products on him. “Oh come on,” she wheedles, grip on his arm tightening painfully. “Those idols you like so much where makeup all the time. Lots of guys wear makeup too! Don’t be a baby about this, Soonyoung-ah.”

“But lip gloss feels gross,” Soonyoung whines. “It’s all sticky and uncomfortable and it tastes like plastic.”

“How’d you even know what it tastes like?” She asks, eyebrows arched in suspicion.

For a brief moment, Soonyoung panics at the thought that she sees right through him, like she’s an all-knowing being hunting down his every move. He can’t quite tell her the only reason he knows is because he’d worked up the nerve to line up in an (illegal) kissing booth discreetly put up by the drama club for funds, then applied and reapplied cheap lip gloss he’d bought from the convenience store before digging up his savings from last year’s Chuseok to blow on a few seconds of mouth-to-mouth contact. Still, he manages to not let his voice crack and stutter when he answers, “I tried some of the stuff you left in the bathroom once. It was really gross.”

“What did I tell you about touching my things again, brat?” She asks, rapping her knuckles against his forehead.

“Not to,” he grumbles, and she cuffs him upside the head again but lets it go soon enough.

 _Girls are really scary_ , he thinks, not for the first time.

It’s strange— he’s always kind of had this niggling awareness of them at the back of his head ever since junior high, but something about senior high has intensified the consciousness even more. He’s got a few friends that are girls, sure, but they’re innocuous enough, too much like Soonhee-noona that he doesn’t even notice the difference and just rolls his eyes when they talk about stuff like their periods or older boys they’re interested in during break time. It’s fine.

And then there are the ones he’s _really_ conscious of, the ones that inspire something more similar to awe-struck terror more than simple attraction. Soonyoung has a _type_ , tall and intimidatingly beautiful— the kind that’s almost good enough to grace the centerfold of a teen magazine, completely out of his league and out of reach for mere mortals. And Soonyoung— he doesn’t function well around them, no.

At least it’s a consolation that his mom’s forbidden him from dating until college, he guesses. Then he doesn’t have to feel too bad for himself that they don’t really notice him on a normal day.

They’re the kind of girls he sees a lot in the shops his sister frequents, a little mature that way for their age, with plenty of pocket money to spare. Sometimes, Soonyoung finds himself peeking at them from the corner of his eye while Soonhee-noona’s busy letting herself get talked into an impulse purchase of a promo item, and sometimes, they catch him staring but ignore him all the same. And that’s fine, he guesses. He’s not really much to look at in his worn jeans and oversized jacket, two sizes too big in case he hits his growth spurt even if he hasn’t really gotten any bigger since fifth grade. He feels more like he’s stuck in junior high school than anything else, not like them.

It’s when they smile back that he finds himself flustered and turning away, a lump forming in his throat as solid and real as the knot in his belly. Girls are way too terrifying for him to handle at fifteen, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Still, it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice. The guys in his class, they like to go to group dates with their friends from other schools, but Soonyoung’s always begged off coming with them enough that his reputation precedes him. _You don’t have to bother inviting Kwon_ , they say when someone who doesn’t know any better offers. _His parents are strict, you know_ , and then they laugh like it’s nothing, enough that Soonyoung can’t help but laugh nervously along with them. _And besides, he’s only got eyes for—_ and that’s as far as they can get before he lunges at them and tries to hit them with his backpack, just so the rest of the people in the shoe lockers don’t hear and spread the word.

It’s a joke, is the thing. From junior high until now, his friends have been teasing him about one particular person in their batch, and Soonyoung’s always wanted the earth to swallow him up every time. They know Soonyoung has a type. They’ve seen him try to brush it off and act normal around his type. And Jeon Wonhee from class 1-B is _totally_ Soonyoung’s type.

Not that Wonhee even notices how much he’s into her. As far as Wonhee seems to be concerned, Soonyoung’s that annoying classmate from elementary that “accidentally” stuck gum in her ponytail and picked up the sanitary napkin she’d dropped from her backpack in fifth grade, managing to embarrass her and set the entire class off laughing when he’d waved it in front of homeroom and asked whose it was. Half the time, she looks at him like she can’t believe he’s an idiot, and the rest of the time she just stares at him like she doesn’t understand him at all. It’s a little mortifying for Soonyoung that of all the people he’d had to have a crush on in junior high, it had to be _her_.

It’s not that she’s not attractive, because she _is_. Wonhee’s, like, the kind of girl Soonhee-noona likes to bitch about, clear skin, small pores, can’t take a bad picture to save her life. And as far as Soonyoung knows, she’s practically the poster girl for someone anyone would kill to take home to meet their parents: she comes from a good family, she likes to feed the stray cats in the back of the gym, and she’s got the nicest pair of legs that go on for miles, all too obvious when she’s in a pair of shorts for sportsfest and warming up for track without seeming to notice Soonyoung staring at her the whole time.

Oh, and then there’s her boobs. _Boobs_. He can’t help it if he’s not tall enough to even look her in the eye, okay? Anyone’s bound to notice them, especially if she’s wearing a costume for the school festival; Soonyoung’s only fifteen and he’s a weak man, and the subject of Jeon Wonhee’s rack had been one that made Soonyoung curl his fingers into a fist and sink into an uneasy, frigid silence when his friends started doing it to get a rise out of him.

Teenagers can be assholes, sometimes.

He’d felt them once, though— hadn’t even been meaning to, really, but she’d been standing beside him in the subway and the train had started rocking a little too wildly that some of the passengers had to find a way to steady themselves without a handle; she’d brushed up against him, her chest against his arm, and he’d felt warm all over, then, like he was going to get a fever soon.

He couldn’t stop thinking of how soft they felt afterwards, or how they’d feel pressed up against him, chest to chest if he kissed her. All the times he’d done laundry at five AM? All her fault, really; if only she could take responsibility. He’d bunched his t-shirt up and under his chin, kicked his shorts off until they hung on his ankles and snaked a hand down his chest, his belly, his thighs before he’d fisted a hand around his cock and jerked himself off in long, quick strokes, thinking of how much he wanted to cup the fullness of her breasts in his sweaty palms, to bite and mark up her skin and just—

 _Fuck_. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to bruise as he hides the front of his pants with the shopping basket. Not the greatest time to grow a boner, thanks. Soonhee-noona would never let him live it down.

It doesn’t look like she’s paying much attention to him, at least. She’s inspecting the selection of nail polish in the shop, impervious to his internal panic. “Yah, Soonyoung-ah,” she calls out from her spot. “Come over here so I can test these out on you first.”

“Coming,” he says, rolling his eyes and padding after her obediently.

She’s putting nail polish on his index finger with the tester when the door to the shop opens, and the staff greet the newcomer with a cheerful welcome before tending to the other customers. Soonyoung’s not really paying much attention to anything other than the Twice song playing in the background to even notice, but he nearly jumps in place when someone creeps up behind him and presses close enough that Soonyoung can feel something soft brush against his back.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” the stranger says, sounding curious and a little cautious, “what are you doing here?”

“W-Wonhee?” He splutters, nearly jerking back. Soonhee-noona tightens her grip around his wrist, keeping him trapped with a death glare and a _tsk_. “I—”

“Who’s this?” Wonhee asks, leaning closer, and suddenly Soonyoung’s finding it a lot harder to breathe. She looks cheerful enough, even unassuming, but her smile looks a little too sharp to be genuine, the same way she looks when he’s messing around with the other girls in their class during cleanup and letting himself be guilt-tripped into carrying the trash for them. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to correct her, but Soonhee-noona gives him an assessing look that has the words dying in his throat. Suddenly, he feels like he’s four years old again and being bossed around by another kid, only to have his older sister watching his every move before someone gets sand and dirt shoved down their t-shirt.

“Is she a classmate of yours, Soonyoung-ah?” Soonhee-noona asks, deliberately slowing down in applying nail polish on him before lifting his nails up for her to blow on. “You’ve never mentioned anyone pretty from school when you stayed over my dorm last night.”

Wonhee seems to stiffen at her words, and she takes a few steps away from him, like they’re in junior high again and getting teased by one of Wonhee’s friends. “I’m Jeon Wonhee,” she says. “We used to be in the same classes when we were younger.”

“You can call me Soonhee-unnie,” Soonhee-noona says, dropping Soonyoung’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet a _friend_ of Soonyoung’s. He doesn’t talk much about his school, you know.”

“I can imagine,” says Wonhee, and the look she shoots Soonyoung seems to be one of— disapproval? Disappointment? Soonyoung just wants to die right now. “Are you a senior, unnie?”

“I’m in college,” says Soonhee-noona, brightly, and Wonhee’s face seems to fall at that.

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“Why should it be?” Soonhee-noona says, slinging an arm over Soonyoung’s waist and pinching his side in warning when he starts to splutter. “I can go on a date with my little Soonyoung-ah whenever I want.”

“Noona—”

“Unless, of course, you have a problem with that,” says Soonhee-noona, digging her nails into Soonyoung’s skin to get him to quiet down. “It’s none of your business, is it, little girl?”

Whatever it is that’s going in on Wonhee’s head, Soonyoung can’t read it; her expression seems to shutter and fold into itself, and she can’t quite look him in the eye after that.

“I— I think my mother is looking for me now. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” she says, suddenly meek in the face of Soonhee-noona’s scrutiny. She turns to offer Soonhee-noona a small bow, the bare minimum of politeness she could afford. “I’ll leave you two alone on your date.”

Soonyoung makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat, words and courage failing him. They both watch her go, Wonhee’s back stiff and straight as she walks out of the store, disappearing into the crowd, and Soonyoung can hear any and all hopes and dreams shatter in the distance, as crushing as the look on her face the day he’d mustered the nerve to line up in the kissing booth she’d been manning and given the smallest of pecks on the corner of his mouth in turn, like she couldn’t bear to even let their lips come in contact with each other’s fully. It’s something he still thinks about when he tries to tell himself first loves don’t last, that they pass quickly enough for him to forget the ache. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, it still hurts, bone-deep and raw, blistering— maybe sixteen will be better.

“Well,” says Soonhee-noona, “that was interesting.”

“Why’d you have to embarrass me like that and pretend you were my girlfriend?” Soonyoung groans, covering his face with his palms even as Soonhee-noona squawks and tries to push his bangs away from his manicured finger. “Now I’ll never be able to look Wonhee in the eye again!”

“But it’s a good sign that she’s jealous, right?” Soonhee-noona says. “At least you know she’s interested!”

“Interested in what? Gossiping about my non-existent older girlfriend?”

“Well, if she does, then it’d mean she’s a bigger bitch than I thought and you should drop her, little brother,” says Soonhee-noona, sounding thoughtful. “That kind of person’s just toxic and immature.”

“Fuck off,” says Soonyoung, without much heat. “Wonhee would never sell me out.” Or maybe she would, in revenge for all the times she’s felt embarrassed around him. God only knows he’s given her so many reasons to be.

“It’s cute that you’re defending her,” says Soonhee-noona. “Maybe mom should be worried you’re not really _that_ disinterested in girls.”

“It’s not like she’ll ever date me,” Soonyoung grumbles. “She has people confessing to her right and left.”

“Did you ever try to do it too, at least?”

“No way,” he denies vehemently, the words sticking like barbed wires at his throat. He’d tried, once, standing in front of her with his life savings in his pockets and asking meekly for a kiss, only for the confession to die in his throat at her shell-shocked expression. “I don’t think I can handle the rejection.”

“You’re so cynical! Whatever happened to the kid who used to want to be an idol?”

“That dream died when I didn’t pass the auditions,” he says, despondently.

It’s a touchy subject, and Soonhee-noona looks a bit hesitant before she pats the top of his head and yanks his hoodie over his forehead. “I _still_ think she likes you,” Soonhee-noona sing-songs. “Like, _like likes_ you that way.”

“Noona, _no_.”

“My brother, the lady-killer. Who’d have thought?” She muses, looking far too amused. “It must be all because of me. And we didn’t even have to consider plastic surgery for it to happen!”

“No offense, noona, but you’re full of shit,” says Soonyoung, flatly.

“Fine, be that way,” Soonhee-noona huffs, scowling at him. “But if you guys end up getting married ten years down the road, I’ll be the one laughing at you at the reception the whole time and telling you _I told you so_.”

Soonyoung snorts, then tries to suffocate himself with the strings of his hoodie as she drags him to the counter to ring up her purchases. Somehow, he thinks, that future’s as unlikely as him going through his literature readings without falling asleep.

It’s a good fantasy to have, though, and it’s all his to keep, even if Wonhee never looks or talks to him again and doesn’t quite feel the same way he does, no. If only she did.


	2. get on your knees, say pretty please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo's a cat hybrid. That's it, that's the fic.

“I think there’s something wrong with Wonwoo lately.”

Junhui looks up at him briefly, brows furrowed together as he tries to work through the chicken scratch called Soonyoung’s handwriting. They’re supposed to be editing each other’s papers before they surrender it to the mercy of their history professor’s grading, but Soonyoung keeps getting distracted by his strangely silent phone and the door to his room, like he’s waiting for something to happen.

Or, more accurately, _someone_ to crawl out of his room for sustenance and sunlight, just to prove he isn’t dead. Wonwoo’s holed himself up in their shared room for a while now, adamantly keeping Soonyoung locked out after the first day. It’s strange, really, how Wonwoo had been so eager to even drag him inside, but the minute Soonyoung had complained about the strong smell of musk and wood, something seemed to snap him out of his foggy, uncharacteristic cheer and made him shove Soonyoung out of the room, throwing his bag and an armful of clothes after him in the process.

That is, until he’d dragged Soonyoung back by the hood of his jacket and forcibly tugged it off of him, intent on squirreling it away. Maybe he’s digging his claws into it and shredding it into pieces in lieu of Soonyoung’s face, he thinks. He wouldn’t put it past Wonwoo, who, while marginally better about not clawing furniture past the age of thirteen, still makes it a point to wreak havoc on Soonyoung’s personal belongings when he feels slighted in some deeply offensive way Soonyoung can never seem to understand. Last time, it was when he’d offered to find Wonwoo a mate. He’d had to replace his entire underwear for even voicing that thought aloud, even if he was only concerned and trying to be the best possible human for the stuffiest cat hybrid in the world.

Okay, so maybe he doesn’t hold a candle to Junhui in that aspect— Junhui, who’s housed the grumpiest, snarkiest hybrid in the world, and still seems to be fairly unscathed from Jihoon’s threats to maim him whenever he tries to cling to him or pet him. So far, the only thing Jihoon’s ever done to Junhui is send him to the ER, and even that had been an accident when Junhui had taken a week-long holiday back to China and Jihoon had pounced a little _too_ eagerly on him the minute he’d gotten back to their tiny apartment. Soonyoung still doesn’t let Jihoon live _that_ down, even if Jihoon keeps “accidentally” shedding all over Soonyoung’s food whenever he brings it up. Touchy, that one.

Still, he’s gotten used to reading mercurial moods after living with Wonwoo for most of his life. Ever since they’d adopted Wonwoo when he was a kitten, he’d been a little hard to read, and Soonyoung’s long given up ever trying to. No amount of reading or watching documentaries will ever get Soonyoung to understand what Wonwoo wants, especially when trying to get it out of him is like trying to pry Wonwoo away from his laptop during a really intense game at two in the morning. It is virtually _impossible_ , even if Soonyoung’s tried everything in the book— not even squirreling his way onto Wonwoo’s lap and attempting to block his view does anything except make Wonwoo sit up a little straighter and then grope and grab at his ass to try to get him to move. _Nothing_.

“Well, what did you do to him this time?” Junhui asks, impatiently tapping at his laptop like he’s antsy about something. Knowing him, it probably has to do with Jihoon, and the thought would make Soonyoung gag if he weren’t so insulted.

“What do you mean what did _I_ do this time?” Soonyoung splutters. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Isn’t that always the problem?” Junhui mutters, shaking his head. He taps on a few keys, then skims the rest of the paragraph before deleting it altogether. Bastard. “Did you forget his birthday or something?”

“That was _one time_ ,” Soonyoung complains. “And I was _eight_ and in the _hospital_ with a broken ankle. I’m supposed to get a free pass.” Which he kind of didn’t, considering his older sister kept telling him about how much Wonwoo was moping at home and curling up in his bed crying himself to sleep— Soonyoung’s pretty sure, to this day, that she was only making it up, but then again Wonwoo had always been a bit of a crybaby when they were younger. Maybe only half of it’s made-up and he’d been crying in frustration and anger instead, ready to strangle Soonyoung for taking his thunder on _his_ birthday with a dumb accident. He’s kind of petty like that.

“Did you ask him if he was interested in getting set up with anyone again?” Junhui asks. “Because I tried running it by Jihoon, I really did, and all I got were claw marks down my back and chest to prove it.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think Wonwoo’s interested in mating with Jihoon either,” says Soonyoung, which is just as good, maybe. If they ever decided to get together in what amounted to marriage in the hybrid world, they’d both operate on weird hours and hole themselves up at home without human contact if they could help it. Soonyoung would probably miss Wonwoo’s annoying hovering and taunting, but Junhui would _die_ without pestering Jihoon at least once a day. Maybe Jihoon should think about mating with Junhui instead, if only to save Junhui from a fate worse than death.

And speaking of mating— “He’s been acting up since a couple of days ago,” says Soonyoung. “It’s like I’m dealing with thirteen-year old him again except this time he’s a lot less bitchy and just skipped straight ahead to hiding completely.”

“ _Huh_ ,” Junhui says, closing the laptop now that his interest is piqued. “Jihoonie gets like that when it’s that time of the year. Do you think Wonwoo’s… you know…”

Junhui waggles his eyebrows at him, but Soonyoung just remains confused. “No, I don’t know,” says Soonyoung. “What is it?”

Junhui rolls his eyes, exasperated. “He’s in heat, idiot,” he says, and Soonyoung can feel a stone drop in his belly, right before an entire avalanche of nerves threatens to eat his insides. “Hasn’t this happened before?”

“No!” Soonyoung insists. “Not even once!”

“Well, it’s not surprising for some hybrids to be late bloomers, especially when they’re fairly adjusted to a cohabiting relationship with a potential mate,” says Junhui, matter-of-factly, like he’s not making Soonyoung’s brain turn to mush at his choice of words. “Jihoonie didn’t start until I was a senior in high school, and even then I only started helping him when I got into uni.”

Soonyoung’s brain takes that opportunity to suddenly careen into a halt, flinging itself face-first into a wall that screams _BAD THOUGHTS, DO NOT ENTER_. “You _help_ Jihoon in his heat?”

“Of course I do,” says Junhui, looking at Soonyoung like _he’s_ the weird one. “Why wouldn’t I do anything when he’s in pain and suffering?”

“Oh,” is the only thing Soonyoung can say, at a loss for words. He’s heard about sex between hybrids and humans before— seen the porn of it, even, before Wonwoo had found his search history and kept hounding him about it in high school— and he’s not dumb enough to not be aware that some hybrids still get trafficked for sexual purposes. If Wonwoo hadn’t gotten adopted— more like, if Wonwoo hadn’t _chosen_ Soonyoung at the hybrid center when they were little more than three— then maybe some filthy pervert would have eventually gotten his hands on an older Wonwoo. Maybe some of the other hybrids at the center hadn’t been so lucky.

It’s a disquieting thought that he’s had more than once, and it makes him feel guilty for even thinking of it. Still— helping Wonwoo through his heat? Soonyoung can’t even focus on watching porn while jerking himself off on a good day, especially when he’s trying his best not to get caught by a sleeping hybrid over in the next bed. He’s _terrible_ at multi-tasking.

“Worst case scenario, Wonwoo refuses to let you do anything and you'll have to spend the rest of his heat hovering outside your room praying he doesn't pass out from dehydration," Junhui points out. “At least you tried to help, though. He’ll appreciate the effort, even if he doesn’t say anything.”

“I’ll think about it,” says Soonyoung, and Junhui shrugs and goes back to murdering Soonyoung’s paper, like he hasn’t just decimated Soonyoung’s idea of normalcy, especially in the context of Wonwoo.

*

The thing is, Wonwoo’s _not_ unattractive.

He’s always had this nagging thought at the back of his head that Wonwoo’s cute— he’s always been cute, a precocious kitten that his relatives had all fawned on instead of Soonyoung, and while he’d been annoyed at times, he’d been relatively happy he’d escaped from the cheek pinches and the excessive cooing from the aunties that Wonwoo had been subjected to.

Growing up, it had always been an unspoken thing, how Wonwoo seemed to fare better with adolescence than Soonyoung with his crooked teeth and terrible skin, cheeks perpetually puffy and eyes stubbornly small. When he’d been bemoaning acne and attempting to pop pimples in the bathroom, Wonwoo’s only concerns had been all the fur he’d been shedding from his tail and how he kept growing up too fast for his wardrobe to cope. Soonyoung had even gotten relegated to wearing his hand-me-downs like Wonwoo wasn’t the one younger by a few weeks, and Wonwoo had enjoyed the sight of Soonyoung plucking at his sleeves and swimming in his sweaters for a while, always crowding around Soonyoung and nosing at his face like he was trying to rub it in.

Even now, he still wears some of Wonwoo’s clothes from high school, and the smug look Wonwoo gives him whenever he does is something Soonyoung’s learned to ignore over time. “I like how you look in my clothes,” Wonwoo teases him sometimes, placing his palms around Soonyoung’s hips while Soonyoung’s trying to tame his hair with a blow dryer. Then, with a mocking kiss to his nape, he purrs, “It fits you really well, it’s almost a shame to watch you take it off.”

“Why would you even be watching me undress, you creep,” says Soonyoung, elbowing his side. Wonwoo, annoyingly clingy in the morning, just snakes his bony arms around Soonyoung and holds him, hands stroking his belly. “Stop rubbing my stomach like that! What am I, pregnant?”

Wonwoo makes a strange sound at the back of his throat, eyes glazing over. “It’s physically impossible for you to get knocked up,” he reminds him, drily, but he continues to rub and stroke Soonyoung’s stomach through his button-down anyway.

Soonyoung lets him every time, though; he doesn’t have the heart to push Wonwoo away, not when a tactile Wonwoo only appears at certain times of the day, when he has his guard down the most. When they were younger, it had always been _WonwooandSoonyoung_ , but the older they became, the further the distance Soonyoung couldn’t cross. It’s like he’s on edge and struggling through something far beyond Soonyoung most of the time, and it’s a barrier Soonyoung can’t grasp, the gap between them too wide for it no matter how much he wants it to shrink. There’s only so much you can do, trying to understand a hybrid, and sometimes you never do.

But you can try to be a good human for them, even if the rest of the world seems adamant about conspiring against them. It’s this thought that drives Soonyoung to shove his apprehensions down his throat, pick up a bottle of KY jelly from the pharmacy alongside a box of condoms, a banana, a chocolate bar and all the beer he can afford before going home the next day after class, intent on skipping class until Wonwoo’s heat dies down.

And if he’s walking a little weirdly that day, well— trying to get waxed down there _really_ hurts like a bitch.

*

“Wonwoo-yah,” he calls out softly, knocking on the door. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

There’s a scuffling noise from inside the room, then a long moment of silence that nearly makes Soonyoung think Wonwoo’s fallen asleep before Wonwoo’s voice, low and cracking, comes from the other side of the door. “ _Don’t_ ,” Wonwoo begs, sounding so pained it makes Soonyoung feel less nervous for himself and more worried about Wonwoo. “I’m— I’m not feeling well, Soonyoung.”

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor, then?” Soonyoung asks. “Can you walk?”

“No doctor,” Wonwoo groans. “I’m fine. I’m just— you wouldn’t understand.”

Cautiously, Soonyoung presses his forehead against the door. “Wonwoo,” he says, glad his voice comes out as fairly even, “is there something wrong that I should know about?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” says Wonwoo. He sounds breathier now, like he’s just run a marathon and he’s still trying to catch a second wind. “I’ll be _fine_.”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath, then deliberately shakes the keys in his other hand. “I’m coming in.”

“No, don’t—!”

It’s too late, though; Soonyoung unlocks the door faster than Wonwoo can spring up from Soonyoung’s bed, mostly half-naked except for Soonyoung’s jacket. Almost comically, his half-hard dick is hanging out of the shorts bunched up around his thighs, but Soonyoung tries not to laugh out of nervousness and keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the flush of Wonwoo’s cheeks, the scatter of pink across his skin reaching past his clavicles. His cat ears flick forward and back on the top of his head in nervousness, and his tail keeps wagging back and forth the way it does when he’s agitated.

Soonyoung just wants to reach out and touch him, petting the top of his head and stroking his back to let him know it’s okay, but Wonwoo flinches and takes a step backward, like he’s afraid. And honestly? It just breaks Soonyoung’s heart to see Wonwoo so scared of him. He doesn’t want him to look like that again.

“You’re in heat,” says Soonyoung, bluntly, and Wonwoo rolls his eyes but looks faintly embarrassed as he tries to pull his shorts back on.

“I _am_ ,” says Wonwoo. “I’m a little busy here, so if you could just lock the door on your way out and never speak of this again, that would be great.”

“Oh come on,” says Soonyoung. “It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked.”

Wonwoo flops down on Soonyoung’s bed, curling up in a fetal position like he’s pained. “That is literally the last thing I want to hear from you right now.”

“What, seeing each other naked?”

“ _Soonyoung_ ,” Wonwoo groans. “Stop being a jerk and leave me alone to jack off in peace, _please_.”

Soonyoung bites his lip, fiddling with the keys in his hand. He shuts the door behind him, then locks it for good measure. “What if I’m okay with you seeing me naked?”

Wonwoo’s eyes snap open, and he turns to look at Soonyoung again with wary eyes. “What?”

“I mean,” says Soonyoung, fingers fumbling to unbutton the top of his shirt, “I could help you with your heat. If you want me to.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” says Wonwoo. His eyes flicker down to the skin exposed by Soonyoung’s collar, and he licks his lips unconsciously. “That would be a terrible idea.”

“I mean what I said, okay!” Soonyoung protests. “Do you want me to help you or not?”

“God, you’re a stubborn idiot, aren’t you?” Wonwoo asks. He closes his eyes, then sighs and beckons Soonyoung closer. “Come here, then. Let me touch you.”

“At least let me undress first,” Soonyoung protests, but he stops undoing his shirt at Wonwoo’s sharp look.

“Leave it,” says Wonwoo, voice sounding rougher and grittier than usual. “Let me take care of it.”

From the heated look Wonwoo gives him, Soonyoung’s not sure how he hasn’t completely melted on the spot, but he manages to cross the distance between them and tentatively pulls his jeans off in the process while trying not to trip. “You’re so bossy,” he chides him, then gives up on taking off his bottoms one-handed and just settles for sitting on the edge of the bed to yank them off. “I’m supposed to be the one taking care of _you_. I can take my clothes off myself.”

He kicks his pants off and onto the floor, then moves to finish unbuttoning his shirt before Wonwoo presses up against his back, looping his arms around Soonyoung’s chest. He’s hard, so, so hard against the small of Soonyoung’s back, and he keeps groping and stroking Soonyoung’s chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, enough to make Soonyoung’s breath hitch and his cock stir with interest. “Keep my shirt on,” Wonwoo whispers, breath hot against Soonyoung’s ear. “I like seeing you swallowed up in my clothes.”

“It’s not yours anymore,” Soonyoung mumbles, but obediently lets his hands fall from the shirt and at his side. “It’s mine.”

“Yours,” Wonwoo agrees, though he sounds distracted as he nibbles at Soonyoung’s ear and noses at his cheek. His jaw. “All yours.”

For a hybrid in heat, Wonwoo seems fairly lucid, and it’s almost maddeningly slow for Soonyoung when Wonwoo just keeps pinching and squeezing his chest, his collarbones, everywhere above his stomach. Soonyoung can feel his breathing turn heavier, quicker, and he spreads his thighs apart unconsciously as Wonwoo continues the torture. “At least let me suck you off if you want your heat to go away faster,” Soonyoung says weakly, meaning for it to sound mutinous, but it only sounds breathy at this point.

“Later,” Wonwoo promises. “I want to touch you first.”

“There’s nothing to touch,” Soonyoung groans. “I’m not gonna start lactating if you do that.”

“God, you’re really mouthy, aren’t you?” Wonwoo says, but he sounds fond instead of irritated. “Just like how I imagined.”

 _Why would you even be imagining me_ , Soonyoung means to ask, but his words get swallowed up by Wonwoo’s mouth, their first kiss deep and searching. He makes a strange sound at the back of his throat, garbled and stuttering, but he closes his eyes soon after, unable to stand the intensity of Wonwoo’s eyes on him. He can feel Wonwoo pull away, only to lick at his lower lip once. Twice. His tongue laves and sucks at the jut of his lips, teasing and asking permission all at once, and Soonyoung, in his impatience, angles his head to meet Wonwoo’s mouth again fully, harder this time.

He's so lost in kissing Wonwoo that he almost jumps when he feels Wonwoo’s hand snake down and past the waistband of his briefs, touching his length and stroking his balls. He can feel Wonwoo’s tail loop around his waist, a comforting weight against his skin, and Soonyoung has to clutch at Wonwoo’s jacket and reach down to guide Wonwoo’s hands on how to touch him, how to stroke him, how to jerk him off enough to make Soonyoung’s legs fall apart wider and his hips to rock back to meet Wonwoo’s grip. “Wonwoo-yah,” he whines against Wonwoo’s mouth, squirming, “that feels so good, I can’t—”

“Want to feel even better?” Wonwoo asks, and he cracks a smile at Soonyoung’s near-frantic nod. He pushes Soonyoung down gently against a pillow, guiding him to lay on his back, before crawling in the space between his legs and letting his mouth hover over Soonyoung’s cock. Soonyoung can feel his hole clench in anticipation, and he shakes as Wonwoo rubs his thumb against Soonyoung’s rim. “Did you shave?”

“I got waxed,” Soonyoung admits, but the embarrassment dies down at the appreciative hum Wonwoo lets out as he noses around Soonyoung’s crotch. “Um, and I’m already clean down there after showering, if you wanted to— uh.” He feels his face heat up at Wonwoo’s inquiring look, and he crosses his legs. “Don’t make me say it.”

Wonwoo sniffs at him, then says, almost reverently, “Did you finger yourself in the shower?”

“Yeah,” says Soonyoung, and he shuffles around as Wonwoo pries his knees apart and grabs him by the back of his thighs, leaving Soonyoung exposed and vulnerable. “You can fuck me anytime, if you want.”

“I love you,” Wonwoo blurts out, seemingly awe-struck, and Soonyoung wants to laugh at the hilarity of Wonwoo even admitting anything close to fondness just when he’s about to stick his cock inside Soonyoung. He’s stopped from it, though, when Wonwoo mouths at the head of his cock, his balls, before finally settling somewhere on the inside of his thigh. “Fuck, you smell so good. I can’t wait to fuck you and fill you up with my come.”

“Why don’t you do it the— _oh my god_ ,” Soonyoung yelps, body jerking when Wonwoo suddenly licks at his pucker. Wonwoo slides a finger into it experimentally, the intrusion tight but giving way easily after what had felt like an eternity of preparation in the bathroom, and his tongue soon follows the slow, easy way he fingers Soonyoung open, driving Soonyoung crazy.

His fingers sink into Soonyoung and fucks into him like he’s mimicking exactly what he wants to do to him later on, and Soonyoung has to grip the back of his head to keep himself from thrashing around. His fingers piston in and out of Soonyoung rapidly, a stark contrast to the lazy licks he gives Soonyoung’s rim like he’s lapping up milk from a bowl instead of eating him out and torturing him. Soonyoung’s thighs shake, muscles clenching and tensing with Wonwoo’s deliberate actions, working him open in a maddening tenderness Soonyoung’s never really been on the receiving end of until now.

“ _Fuck_ , Wonwoo,” Soonyoung pants, and he makes a gutted sound at the back of his throat as Wonwoo’s fingers leave him, only to be replaced soon after by his exploring tongue. “Oh my god, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop. _Don’t_ , don’t stop, _don’t_ —”

He bites down on the pillowcase hard just to muffle the embarrassing sounds coming out of his mouth, but it just seems to make Wonwoo even more intent on making him shake and yell himself hoarse as he eats him out with gusto. The sight of Wonwoo between his legs, fucking him open with his tongue and jerking him off with his fingers is what sets Soonyoung off, and he comes messily all over his stomach and Wonwoo’s knuckles, muscles squeezing and clenching as he trembles all over.

His head’s spinning, mind blank and vision white for a moment at the most intense orgasm he’s had so far, and when he manages to focus on Wonwoo again, Wonwoo’s lazily stretched out over him, grinning and leering down at him as he braces himself up on his arms.

“That good, huh?” Wonwoo asks, looking smug. Soonyoung kind of wants to hit him, but he’s just benefited from the magic of Wonwoo’s tongue and fingers so he really has no room to fight him on it. He just lets out a shaky whimper that makes something in Wonwoo’s face turn softer, gentler, and he lets himself be kissed, chastely, as if to soothe the aftershocks. “There, there. I’ve got you, baby.”

“You haven’t even come yet,” Soonyoung points out in between kisses.

“Patience,” Wonwoo promises. “I wanted to come inside you the first time I mate with you.”

“Gross,” Soonyoung bemoans, but he finds himself spreading his legs for Wonwoo and raising his ass to accommodate the pillow Wonwoo props up under him. “It’ll be a bitch to clean up.”

“Don’t worry about that,” says Wonwoo. He’s got a hand on his cock, lazily stroking himself as he rubs the tip against Soonyoung’s rim, and he looks like he’s considering teasing him for a bit longer as Soonyoung rocks his hips back in impatience.

He finally pushes forward, cock breaching Soonyoung’s tight heat and making Soonyoung take a sharp, shaky breath, eyelashes fluttering and fingers scrabbling at the sheets as he enters him. “I’ll mess you up again and again, so much you’ll forget your own name.”

Soonyoung highly doubts that, but Wonwoo can try; and from the way he fucks Soonyoung open, making him cry out with each thrust, Soonyoung doesn’t mind if he does.

Absently, he wonders if this is what Junhui does to Jihoon, or lets Jihoon do to him. Then Wonwoo starts pounding into him, fast and deep, and Soonyoung completely forgets Jihoon, or Junhui, or anything else except how to shout Wonwoo’s name.

*

It takes a while before Wonwoo tires himself out.

More like, five orgasms later and Soonyoung coming dry after the third time Wonwoo does; Wonwoo has a faster recovery time than Soonyoung, and his hips keep rolling and grinding against Soonyoung like he can’t wait to split him open with his cock again and again, and Soonyoung just takes and takes all the times Wonwoo paints his insides white and fucks it all out, overflowing and sloppy, the sound obscenely loud and dampening Soonyoung’s mewling in the back of his head.

Even now, Soonyoung can still feel Wonwoo’s come oozing out of his rim, sticky and slick against his thighs as he waits for Wonwoo to come back with a wet towel. Wonwoo had tried to lick him clean, eager to eat him out again, but Soonyoung had begged exhaustion and soreness and threatened to cut off Wonwoo’s dick and tongue if he tried to fill him up again without wiping them down. It hadn’t stopped Wonwoo from groping his ass and fingering his come out, but Wonwoo, for once, actually listened and stopped at that.

Soonyoung’s still marveling over the sudden power he has over an obedient Wonwoo when he gropes around for his phone, then dials a familiar number and waits until the call gets picked up with a sleepy “hello…?”, five AM phone call be damned.

“Junhui,” says Soonyoung, voice cracking, “I am _never_ trusting you ever again.”

“Huh?” Junhui asks, sounding distracted on the other line as what sounds like Jihoon makes a complaining noise and gets shushed by Junhui’s soothing coos for him to go back to sleep. Then, when Jihoon’s sufficiently appeased, he asks, groggy and annoyed, “Why?”

“I just got Wonwoo through a _crazy_ heat, and now I feel all boneless and sore all over,” Soonyoung groans. “How do you even survive this?”

“What do you mean?” Junhui asks, confused. “I just get Jihoonie ice cream and cuddle him when we sleep, and then I let him scent me until he calms down enough for me to pet him again. Why would I be in danger of anything?”

“You _what_?”

“It’s not that hard to take care of a prickly hybrid, Soonyoung-ah,” says Junhui, laughing. “Why don’t you talk to Wonwoo and ask him if he can be gentler with you next time you try to take care of him?”

If there’s even a next time. God. He hangs up and throws the phone onto the bedside table, then rolls over and hides his face under a pillow. Fucking _idiot_ , jumping to conclusions and not even thinking to look it up in a book, or online, or _something_. And Wonwoo had _let_ him. He’s never going to show his face to Junhui ever again.

He can feel the bed dip and Wonwoo hovering over him before the warm towel touches the back of his thigh, Wonwoo’s fingers tentatively stroking over it. “Soonyoung-ah, are you okay?” He asks. Soonyoung makes a garbled noise at the back of his throat that seems to satisfy him, at least, and Wonwoo bends down to kiss the top of his head. “Here, I brought you a towel to clean you up. Do you want me to do it for you?”

“I’ll do it,” Soonyoung yelps, turning around and grabbing the damp towel away from Wonwoo. At Wonwoo’s slightly hurt and confused look, though, Soonyoung feels something in his chest twinge, and he scrambles to stutter out an excuse that he doesn’t trust Wonwoo enough to not tease him again.

“But I always like teasing you,” says Wonwoo, simply, and he helps Soonyoung turn over and cradles him as Soonyoung wipes himself down. He reaches around to spread Soonyoung’s ass cheeks apart and scrape some of the come out with his fingers, and while Soonyoung can feel Wonwoo’s cock stir with interest under him and his own breathing turn heavy and quick at the way Wonwoo is working him open, Wonwoo’s far more patient than a man who’s just fucked Soonyoung open until his voice turned hoarse and his body gave out in the end. “It’s fun to watch you squirm.”

Soonyoung flushes red and feels warm all over at the reminder, and Wonwoo’s soft smile doesn’t help soothe the wild fluttering in his chest. His belly. He keeps quiet, hiding his face against Wonwoo’s chest, and he doesn’t need to look to know Wonwoo probably looks satisfied with himself by now. 

“Sadist,” he mutters, voice muffled.

Wonwoo bows his head to inhale Soonyoung’s scent on his neck, then bites and sucks a small mark at the skin there. “I only want to please my mate,” he says, loftily. “You can’t blame me for wanting to perform well.”

Soonyoung hesitates, fingers curling up into a fist over Wonwoo’s chest. “Your mate?”

Wonwoo’s palm comes up to cover Soonyoung’s knuckles, close to his heart. “Yours,” he affirms, and the kiss he gives Soonyoung is slow and sweet, reminding Soonyoung of petals opening slowly when spring comes. “Always.”

Soonyoung doesn’t question it. Maybe there’s a reason Wonwoo’s chosen him all those years ago, hand coming up to press against Soonyoung’s equally tiny palm through the glass— he must have known, then, faster on the uptake than Soonyoung. Always, always one step ahead.

There’s no burden of a distance Soonyoung feels he needs to cross anymore, though, not when he’s wrapped up in Wonwoo’s arms and getting showered with more kisses than he’s ever received his whole life. Looks like Wonwoo doesn’t need to mate with anyone else, not even Jihoon, anymore, not with Soonyoung around.

“Next time, we’re doing this on your bed instead,” he croaks out, already dreading the thought of stripping his bed sheets and doing laundry or burning them altogether.

“Whatever you want,” Wonwoo promises, sounding fond, and tangles their legs together until Soonyoung can’t tell where Wonwoo ends and where Soonyoung begins anymore.

There’s no distance like this, Soonyoung thinks. No, none of it— nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/lunnarsystem/status/1120740954070237185?s=19) from lunnarsystem @ twitter!!!

**Author's Note:**

> this only happened because I'm a one-trick pony and I needed an outlet without having to build universes from scratch. rating may go up in the future depending on the kind of content I decide to write (if I even write any), but I want this to be as smooth, painless, and (more importantly), undemanding of my time or effort to continue writing.


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